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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385506">Ablation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/doylesmom/pseuds/doylesmom'>doylesmom</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Claudeleth Week 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Star Wars AU, for Claudeleth week 2020, oops another chaptered fic, tags to be updated as the story progresses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:47:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/doylesmom/pseuds/doylesmom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ablation: the process by which the surface layers of an object are eroded</p><p>or</p><p>Two runaways cross paths in the expanse of the universe. A Claudeleth Star Wars AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Claudeleth Week 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838485</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Claudeleth Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ablation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>YEEHAW it’s finally here. I’ve been wanting to write this fic since... November? December? I saw that the prompt for the first day of Claudeleth week was “stars” and well, it seemed like the perfect time. Star Wars and the Star Wars EU have always been one of my favorite fandoms, so here’s hoping that love shines through in this fic.</p><p>Shoutout to <a href="https://twitter.com/overtheoceantou/status/1284904492828246017?s=20">Kai</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/tishtish4/status/1284925977248686081?s=20"> Tish </a> for their AMAZING ART!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The stars were bright on Tattooine, which was really the only good thing about it. Claude leaned against a column, giving himself a brief moment to let his eyes wander to the galaxy stretched bare above him before locking them back on the crew refueling his beloved Wyvern.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, watch the paint job!” He called, trying not to visibly wince as a mechanic barely avoided scratching the brand new coat of paint on the Wyvern’s hull. The mechanic- a grizzled Rodian with suspicious scars- spat an insult at him in Huttese.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Lovely crowd, this bunch.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Claude waved airily at him. “Just finish up what I paid you to do and I’ll get out of your antennae.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The Rodian made a dismissive noise and went back to his work, leaving Claude to observe the mechanics and pit droids as they worked. The hangar was bustling with activity despite- or perhaps due to- the late hour, and Claude found his gaze continuously wandering. Ships and freighters of various makes and models, crews of all kinds, more droids than he cared to count.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Too many around for his comfort. The sooner he got off world, the better. He was starting to get jittery.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax, kid,” drawled a nearby worker, “You’re acting like you have somewhere to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.” He replied dryly. “Got a shipment of droid parts headed for Corellia.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The worker snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t envy you there.” They said, wiping sweat from their brow with a grease stained sleeve. “Tattooine is bantha poo-doo on a good day, but at least it isn’t Corellia.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re telling me.” Claude said with a sigh. The worker shook their head in sympathy before walking off with a casual wave of their hand. Claude returned the gesture half-heartedly.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to Corellia?” Came a soft voice to his left. Claude whirled to face the figure standing several paces away, his hand flying to his holstered blaster. The cloaked figure lifted their hands in a gesture of peace. The hands were small, humanoid, well callused. Their face, however, was well hidden beneath the shadow of their grey hood. The cloak was worn, but of good make, and well cared for.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What of it?” He asked, still on high alert.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a transport to catch on Corellia, and the crew that was supposed to take me there never showed.” The voice said, soft and calm. “I can pay. Ten thousand credits.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ten thousand credits.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Claude’s gaze slipped, just for a moment, to the Wyvern.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ten thousand credits could get a brand new cooling system…</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I want five thousand upfront.” He said, returning his gaze to the cloaked figure. “And I reserve the right to boot you off at any point. My ship, my rules.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal.” The figure said, reaching one hand out. Claude clasped it in his, and pretended not to notice the jolt that passed between them.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Odd.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome aboard the Wyvern. We leave as soon as she’s refueled.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>His passenger removed the hood of her cloak as soon as the last cargo ramp sealed shut. Mint green hair, delicate features, big eyes that caught his as he took in the sight of her under the harsh fluorescent lights.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome aboard the Wyvern.” He told her again, choosing to pretend as though he hadn’t been very obviously staring. “Let me show you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He led her through twisting passageways, pointing out the mess, the fresher, the crew bunks.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“The Wyvern can accommodate a crew of up to nine,” he explained to her, “But I prefer to work alone. So you can stay in here. I usually sleep in the cockpit.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The woman said nothing, just leveling an unerringly even gaze at him for several long moments before making her way to a bunk, dropping a simple cloth sack from within her voluminous robes on the nearest one.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you hot in that?” He asked her, gesturing to the clasped grey garment.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really.” The woman replied, shrugging her shoulders. It was an oddly graceful move, and Claude found himself wondering for a moment if perhaps she had dancer training.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ah well. Unimportant.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you to get settled, then.” He said. “I’ll be up in the cockpit if you need anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The woman nodded, and Claude turned to leave, closing the door behind him. He paused for a moment in the hall, letting the familiar rumblings and groans of the Wyvern rocketing through hyperspace ease the tension building in his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Something about that woman unnerved the twelve hells out of him, though he couldn’t put an exact finger on it.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless, he had a ship to pilot and inventory to check, so he tucked the feeling of unease away into a far corner of his mind, and went about his business.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Six hours into hyperspace and his cooling system began to fail again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude cursed every god he could name as he rooted around in a service panel, desperately fighting a losing battle with his poor, overworked ship.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you need help?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kriff!” He nearly shouted, barely avoiding slamming his forehead into a pipe as he jumped. Carefully untangling himself, Claude slid back into the durasteel hall, face smudged with oil. His passenger watched him blankly, her eyes almost unblinking as she waited for him to answer her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said. “But thank you. I’m afraid she’s beyond repair. I hate to do this, but I’m going to have to dock again and get a new set of freeze plugs, at the very least. What she </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> needs is an entirely new cooling system, but that should at least hold us over until we hit Corellia.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have to stop?” She asked, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. It was the first display of emotion that Claude had seen since they had met. Which, granted, had only been about eight hours prior, but it was still odd nonetheless. He got the feeling that she was not one to emote.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately.” He sighed. He watched as the muscles around her mouth tensed ever so very slightly. Displeasure, perhaps? He wasn’t quite sure. To be honest, if he hadn’t been looking for it, he wasn’t sure he would have even seen it in the first place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it-” She began again, but stopped herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude waited, giving her several long moments to speak. But instead she simply stared, blank faced and silent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll bring us out of hyperspace.” He told her, getting his feet. “If my calculations are correct, we should be near Arkanis. I’ll get a set of replacement plugs, get them installed, and get us back in atmo as soon as possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hoped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now come to the cockpit with me and get strapped in. Arkanis storms year round, and it’s a bumpy ride down.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was, as he had told his passenger, storming as he brought the Wyvern down onto an empty repair dock at Scaparus Port on Arkanis. The seaside town, squished between two impossibly tall cliffs, was ramshackle at best. Its brightly colored buildings were crammed together like fish in a can, washed out and muted with age and the constant downpour. It’s people were equally faded- fisherfolk and traveling merchants and mechanics. A nowhere starport on a nowhere planet in Nowhere, Outer Rim.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet something about it raised the hair on the back of Claude’s neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude had never been one to ignore his instincts- they had saved his sorry neck more than once. Something in him was screaming to run, to take back off, escape back into the endless void of the universe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the Wyvern needed those plugs or his beloved freighter might never take off again, and he was eager to spend a few moments away from the eternally unfeeling face of his passenger. Who he realized at that moment that he didn’t actually know the name of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, to be fair, he hadn’t given her his name either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As though summoned by his thoughts, she appeared silently at his side, her own unease apparent in the way she tugged her hood further over her face, leaving her in shadows once more. To his own credit, he managed to not jump this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll find the plugs,” he told her, his voice low under the roar of the rain, “Why don’t you go grab us some caf?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She paused for a moment, and he could almost feel her bright blue gaze from under the grey hood. It took several moments, but finally she nodded her assent and Claude watched her leave the relative shelter from under the ship and wander off into the rain, disappearing further into the market.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude hummed to himself as he watched her form fade away in the haze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Waterproof cloak. He’d have to think about investing in one himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He glanced up at the deluge with a sigh and braced himself before making his own way into town.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>His passenger was getting antsy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She said nothing as he watched the mechanics working on his ship, simply sipping her caf and shifting her weight. He wasn’t sure how he knew that she was starting to get impatient, but somehow he knew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude sipped at his own caf, grimacing at the acrid brown sludge in the cup that had been handed to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kriff, that’s disgusting.” He grumbled under his breath, shivering as a droplet from his still drying hair snaked its way down his neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His passenger hummed noncommittally, thought he noticed she was drinking her own rather slowly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You just can’t get good caf out this way.” He told her. “Gotta go to the Core Worlds for that. You ever been to Coruscant? They have the best caf on Coruscant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s bracing.” She replied. “Which, if you’re a fisherfolk returning from a twenty hour expedition, is probably what you’re looking for, rather than an overpriced cup of sugar and syrup with a splash of caf.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude gasped, only half jokingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse you!” He exclaimed. “But-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was at that point that he would have delivered a scathing retort, sure to decimate her with his wit, if it had not been for a sudden commotion at the edge of the port.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Over there! See!” Called out a stranger’s voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude and his passenger whirled to face the source of the sound, only to find six clones marching their way, blasters at the ready.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude felt his heart drop into his stomach. Had they found him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kriff.” Claude cursed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.” His passenger agreed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of them took off, running for the Wyvern as the clones began to shout for them to halt, the sound of blaster fire ringing through the air. Civilians and bots shouted and ran for safety, the commotion of it drowning out Claude’s internal panic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Halt!” One of the clones yelled. “You are-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was knocked over by a screaming astromech droid, the rest of his order lost to the chaos of a panicking starport.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop them!” He heard one clone call out. “Don’t let them escape!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude saw a mechanic hesitantly begin to approach them, only to look away innocently as Claude pulled out his blaster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get on!” He called to his equally panicked passenger. “I’ll cover you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without missing a beat she nodded, dashing onto the ramp that led into the ship. Claude fired a warning shot at an overeager clone that got too close. He stepped onto the ramp, feeling it rumble as it began to close, the blaster fire from the incoming clones pinging against his brand new paint job.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not important, Claude. Focus on getting out first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude threw himself into the pilot’s seat, punching in coordinates and prepping the Wyvern for takeoff. Stars he hoped the mechanics had finished installing his plugs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What can I do?” His passenger asked from the copilot’s seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you shoot?” He asked. She nodded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Down the main hall, second floor hatch. Gunner compartment. Get in, get anyone who decides to chase off of our tail.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Without another word she dashed off, her boots ringing against the durasteel floor as Claude finished locking in the last set of coordinates. A deep breath, a prayer to anyone who might be listening, and Claude slammed the ship into motion. Blaster fire pinged against the now live shield as the Wyvern rose unsteadily into the air, hovering for just a moment before slipping into atmo, and blasting off into the now violent storm clouds of Arkanis. He gripped tightly at the steering, planting his feet as firmly as he could as he maneuvered around flashes of lightning and bursts of hail. He released one hand from the console to grab and slip on his headset, flipping it on before returning to his previous position.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You alright in there?” He called into the mic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Strapped in and only minorly jostled. No chasers.” She replied, her voice tight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He groaned, narrowing his eyes and biting his lip as he wove through cloud banks. “We’ll be off planet in twenty, in hyperspace in twenty five. Be up before then, unless you’re majorly into motion sickness.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Speaking from experience?” She asked, almost teasingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And then some,” Claude laughed dryly. “And then some.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude began to breathe normally as soon as the blur of hyperspace set in. He closed his eyes, letting the navicomp and autopilot guide the Wyvern across the galaxy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So…” Began his solemn passenger. Claude groaned and leaned further back into his chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” He said with a heavy sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re sorry? Why? It was me they were after.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude’s brain screeched to a halt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A beat passed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then two.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You?” He asked, sitting upright, his eyes flying open as his brow furrowed. “They were after me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman looked as puzzled as he felt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would clones be after you?” She asked, almost hesitantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Khalid Harik, blood of my blood, so long as you draw breath, know that-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are some… high ranking officials…” Claude fumbled for his words as his mind raced to piece together an explanation that wouldn’t reveal his identity. “From my homeworld… And, well, I am not their favorite person ever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman’s eyes brightened with understanding before her face fell to careful neutrality once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would the clones be after you?” He asked, tossing the question casually back at her. She wasn’t an imposing figure, too soft to be a bounty hunter gone rogue, too delicate to be a war criminal of any kind. She hesitated, almost glancing about herself before reaching up to unclasp her cloak.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Down it fell around her, revealing simple, yet elegant grey robes, and a holster upon her waist, a single, metal cylinder at hip height.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude’s mouth went dry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am-” She paused, something close to regret clouding her eyes for a brief moment. “I was, that is, a Jedi in training.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A Jedi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jedi</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, not a Jedi anymore, apparently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, that answers one question.” Claude said slowly, his eyes lingering on the weapon thingy on her belt. What were those called again? “But that still doesn’t tell me why you would think they were after you. Did you, like, kill a Master or something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, of course not.” The woman frowned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it illegal to leave the Jedi Order?” Oh, yeah, a lightsaber. He wondered what color hers was- he’d only seen a few in his lifetime. Green or blue? Either would match her well, he thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, not at all.” The woman sighed, her fingers nervously drumming against her leg. “It is just that…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That?” Claude prompted, his gaze finally traversing back up to her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There are some within the order who have a vested interest in me remaining a Jedi.” She said finally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t want to remain a Jedi.” Claude hummed thoughtfully. The woman nodded, her minty locks falling around her face in a way that reminded him of a frieze painted on one of the walls surrounding the home in which he had grown up. A nymph, they had called that woman. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So why do you want to go to Corellia?” Claude found himself asking. “Wouldn’t that be the worst place to go, if you don’t want to get caught?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to go home.” She said, her voice tight. “I want to return to my father. He can help me escape, help me hide. But the only transport I know of that would be safe for me to take home leaves from Corellia.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, out of the fire and into the dragon’s mouth.” Claude said. The woman’s face lightened for just a moment, and it almost looked amused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude chuckled and rose from his chair, stretching his back as he smiled as winningly as he could at the woman in the pilot’s seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, now that I know you won’t turn me over to the authorities,” He said, “I suppose proper introductions are in order. The name is Claude.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stuck out his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman stood as well, graceful and smooth, just a few inches shorter than him at her full height. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Byleth.” She said, grasping his hand firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude could have sworn that in that moment, she almost smiled. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it was just his imagination, but after they had exchanged their stories- bareboned as they were- and names, Claude felt almost as though Byleth had begun to relax around him. She was still unerringly neutral in all ways- which he could now see was from a lifetime of Jedi training- but something about her seemed almost… softer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, he mused as he watched her train, perhaps softer was not quite the right word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t noticed him entering her improvised practice area. The empty crates still littering the wide room were her imagined opponents, and she twirled between them with ease. Her eyes were focused, her strikes and dodges elegant and precise. Movements that spoke of a lifetime of combat training and battlefield experience.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wondered again what color her lightsaber was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shifted his weight, his boot scraping the floor, and suddenly Byleth was inches from him, the makeshift staff she had been using as a stand in for her lightsaber mere inches from his skin. Had she been using her lightsaber, had she not seen him and pulled back at the last moment, Claude was sure that he would have been cleaved in half. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just me.” He said, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace, doing his best not to act as though his heart hadn’t jumped from his chest. “Just me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Byleth sighed, relaxing her stance. “Got lost in the moment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I could tell.” Claude said with his most winning grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Byleth looked at him for several long moments, and for reasons he could not understand Claude felt, quite suddenly, that he should look away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, anyways,” he fumbled for words for a moment, cowardly turning his gaze to the ground in an attempt to break whatever spell she had put on him, “I just wanted to let you know that we land in seventy two hours. I’m heading to the fresher, and then down for some sleep for a bit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Byleth said nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Feel free to wake me if you need anything, Byleth.” He said, turning to head towards the fresher. Her name felt odd in his mouth, heavy on his tongue. Awkward, clumsy. Things he was not, had not been for many years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rest well, Claude.” He heard her say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He absolutely did not shiver. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/tzubakis/"> Twitter </a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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